ALBERT. What did she say?
JACQUES. Oh, I wouldn't repeat it; it wouldn't be friendly.
ALBERT. I must know.
JACQUES. Very well, then—she said that you had not succeeded—nor had I—to find the way to her heart. Between you and me, we've got a high-minded woman to deal with, a philosopher who detests flattery. It seems you have been in the habit of paying her compliments——
ALBERT. I never pay compliments.
JACQUES. Whatever you did, she didn't like it. Moreover—since you want the whole truth—you seem to her a bit—ridiculous.
ALBERT. Pardon?
JACQUES. The very word: ridiculous. She wants a husband who will act as a sort of conscience pilot. Evidently, you haven't appealed to her in that capacity.
ALBERT. Sometimes I used to be rather sharp with her——
JACQUES. You did it too daintily, perhaps; you lacked severity. I'll wager you smiled, instead of scowled—that would have been fatal!